<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>When I Get That Feeling by gettingby</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841757">When I Get That Feeling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingby/pseuds/gettingby'>gettingby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, Watford Eighth Year, magic sharing, mature just to be safe, mild references to sexual content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:15:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingby/pseuds/gettingby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I’ve always known that I’m an awful dancer. But Agatha is choreographing a performance for the Leavers’ Showcase, and I’ll do anything to get her back.</p><p>Even if it means thrusting my hips to Marvin Gaye and The Weeknd alongside Baz Pitch.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Snowbaz Sweethearts Fic Exchange 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fight_Surrender/gifts">Fight_Surrender</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a Sweethearts Exchange gift based on the prompt of “fluff/crack” for Fight_Surrender! I admire your work so much and I hope you enjoy. This is very fluffy, and maybe kind of crack? (Although it is a close retelling of events in my own life, so I don’t know what that says about me.)</p><p>I’d like to apologise in advance to my dance captains for shamelessly ripping off their choreography - thank you and I hope you never find this 💕</p><p>By popular (Dem’s) demand: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3rYNLpdUu7mYcRcL4cCbto?si=cdCDXncjTImbewBK3qSecQ">playlist</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Leaver’s Showcase practices start today!”</p><p>As soon as Gareth hands me the flyer, Penny’s already snatched it away.</p><p>“This is a truly horrible tradition." Penny glares at Gareth. "I hope you know that.”</p><p><i>I</i> know that - or at least, I know that Penny thinks so. I've heard her rant about it ever since fourth year, when we were first allowed to watch the Leaver’s Showcase. Held near the beginning of Spring term every year, the Showcase is an opportunity for  eighth years to show off their talents though singing, skits, and the like.</p><p>But nobody cares about that stuff. Not compared to the Boys' Dance, which closes out the night.</p><p>I'll never forget the first time I watched a group of eighteen-year-old boys swagger onto the stage to the tune of that song from <i>Magic Mike</i>, thrusting their hips as the audience screamed and clapped.</p><p>“Even if the Boys' Dance weren’t blatantly sexual, the fact that only men are allowed to participate should be enough for the Mage to ban it,” Penny argues. </p><p>Gareth shrugs. “The Showcase always happens around Valentine's Day. It's supposed to be a treat for the ladies." He waggles his brows and Penny looks nauseous.

He huffs. "Well, it’s supposed to be funny, isn’t it? It’s not going to be funny if the girls do a sexy dance - it’ll just be sexy.”</p><p>“I can’t even begin to unpack that statement," Penny grumbles.</p><p>I tug her away from Gareth. "Pen, we're gonna be late for class."</p><p>That's a lie. I just wanted to de-escalate the conflict. As a result, we arrive early to Magic Words, and when we take our usual seats, Agatha smiles and waves at us.</p><p>I'm surprised. She's barely acknowledged me since she dumped me at the beginning of eighth year.</p><p>She walks over to our table and hands me a flyer. The same flyer as Gareth, in fact.</p><p>Penny's eyes widen as she sees the flyer. “Agatha, I can’t believe you’re promoting this! It’s blatantly sexist. And why are we objectifying <i>secondary school students</i>—”</p><p>“Well, you don’t have to participate, do you?” Agatha says coldly. “I’m the choreographer this year, along with Gareth. I think Simon will make a great addition to the group.”</p><p>She turns her mesemerising brown eyes on me. When I look into them, I can imagine surviving the Humdrum, marrying her and moving into her family’s London flat.</p><p>"Please?" she says, with a smile.</p><p>I will definitely make a fool of myself if I agree. But Agatha is my future, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win her back.</p><p>I grin back. “Yeah, sure, I’ll do it.”</p><p>Penny hits me on the arm. "Really, Simon!" </p><p>Agatha ignores her and beams. “We’re meeting in the dance studio on the ground floor of the Weeping Tower, tonight at seven, for our first practice. And Simon? I'm really happy you're joining us."

</p><p>She sounds genuinely grateful. I’ve disappointed her a lot, but for once I feel like I’ve done something right. I think she appreciates that I’m supporting one of her interests.</p><p>This might be what it takes for us to get back together.</p><p>As Penny and I unpack our books and prepare for lecture, I shoot her an apologetic look. I agree about all the stuff she says about the Showcase, but this is my future on the line. Agatha and I are <i>endgame</i>, and I have to get her back.</p><p>I feel hopeful as Agatha takes her seat, even though she's chosen to sit directly behind Baz. I don’t even care when he turns around and says something to her, and she says something back. Nothing can get me down, now that I’ve finally got a plan.</p><p>*</p><p>Gareth knocks on my door at 6:45 pm sharp. “Rhys and I are walking over a bit early so I can set up,” he says. “Come with?”</p><p>I’m already in trackies, so I guess there’s no need for me to loiter in my room any longer. Baz is typing intently on his laptop, and doesn't even look up as I leave.</p><p>Even though I consider Rhys and Gareth to be my friends, I don't get to spend much time with them. Rhys is brilliant at spelling himself down the steps of Mummers. He even spins his chair around at the end, and Gareth claps. “Mate, you’re gonna be a star,” he says. </p><p>Once we arrive at the Weeping Tower, I’m not sure where to go. I’m glad I walked over with Gareth, because he points out the door to me. It's a little nondescript one, close to the entrance of the dining hall.</p><p>My stomach grumbles at the smell of shepherd’s pie wafting from it. I’ve already had dinner, but that was a whole hour ago.</p><p>“I’m going to grab a snack,” I tell Rhys and Gareth. “I’ll meet you in there soon.”</p><p>I grab a slice of cake and some savory tarts that were set up as an appetiser. I’ve basically inhaled them by the time I leave the dining hall. Before entering the dance practice room, I quickly brush the crumbs on my hands off on my trackies.</p><p>When I walk inside, I’m surprised at the range of participants. All of them are boys, but I recognise Soren from the rugby team, and Bradley who plays in the orchestra. Even Dev and Niall are here, standing together in the corner. </p><p>Agatha is sitting in one corner, stretching. And next to her is the biggest, lankiest, arseholey-est surprise of all.</p><p>Folded in half, touching his toes like it’s no problem at all - Baz fucking Pitch.</p><p>My magic starts slipping out of me right away. Gareth coughs, and Agatha looks up at me and frowns. I try to curtail it so as not to annoy her more, even though I’m still fuming on the inside.</p><p>I just <i>know</i> that Baz decided to join this purely to get on my nerves. He must have heard the conversation between Agatha and me in Magic Words today, and because he’s always getting between us, he had to show up.</p><p>I grit my teeth and try to ignore Baz, but my eyes keep returning to him. He’s as bendy as Agatha, if not more. He’s sitting down now, one leg folded and the other extended, grabbing onto his toes with his chest against his knee.</p><p>I try to mimic him, but I get stuck about halfway down. And I’ve not got half the legs that Baz has. It’s bloody unfair. Is that another vampire trait? Unnatural flexibility?</p><p>A few stragglers trickle in during the next few minutes. Not long after, Agatha and Gareth walk to the front of the room, where the wall is just one long mirror.</p><p>“Welcome to the first practice for the boys’ leavers showcase dance,” Agatha says. “We’re planning to hold practices at seven pm every Wednesday. Please let us know if that doesn’t work for you; we’re happy to adjust the timing if there are scheduling conflicts.”</p><p>“The dance is pretty simple, but it looks really cool,” Gareth continues. “There will be some more complex portions for those of you who are interested, though. We’ll give you the option to learn those in future practices.”</p><p>“For now, we’re going to split into two groups,” Agatha says. “One half of you will stay in this room with me, and the other half will go into the classroom next door, to be taught by Gareth. Halfway through, we’ll switch rooms so everyone has a chance to practice in front of the mirror.”</p><p>“Alright, follow me if you’re joining my group,” Gareth calls out, walking towards the door. Rhys and a couple of other boys follow him, but the majority of us stay rooted in our spots.</p><p>Agatha sighs. “Come on, it has to be fifty-fifty. Move along, or we’ll have to divide you into groups ourselves.”</p><p>Dev and Niall, some of the field hockey boys, and several others shrug and head to the door with Gareth. Baz stays stock still and smirks at Agatha. I grit my teeth and stand my ground, too.</p><p>Once the other group has left, Agatha starts the music on the studio’s speakers. The room erupts into laughter as a familiar drum beat fills the room.</p><p>As Marvin Gaye sings his opening <i>Baaaaaaby</i>, Agatha starts dancing, and I get progressively more terrified. I don’t know what Gareth was on about, calling it simple, because it looks bloody difficult.</p><p>The music fades out after about thirty seconds, and Agatha turns back around to face us. “Now I’ll just break everything down, and you all follow along.”</p><p>So we do. It’s painfully slow going. I find myself migrating towards the back of the room, both to hide myself and so that I can watch other people dance and try to mimic them. I seriously regret agreeing to this. I can’t even dance at a bloody ball, so why did I think I could do this? There’s so much to think about: legs and arms and body, and it changes with every beat. My movements feel forced and awkward. This feels nothing like my sword warm-ups, which flow intuitively from one motion to the next.</p><p>“We’re going to try it with the music now - just watch me if you forget anything,” Agatha says, finally. I inhale sharply. We’ve been practising at less than half the speed of the song, and I still can’t keep up. This doesn’t bode well for me.</p><p>For the first few beats, we’re still. And then, <i>Baaaaaaby —</i></p><p>I stiffly bend myself in half, as instructed, and then try to roll my body on the way back up. I realise that despite all of Agatha’s counting of beats, I have no idea when to move on, so I glance forward during my ascent, and catch sight of inky black hair whipping through the air.</p><p>Of course Baz has the perfect hair for this song. And he can do a body roll, too, unlike me. I stare at his back and try to copy his movements. I try to hold myself the way he does, relaxed but with definition in every movement.</p><p>I fan myself while Marvin talks about being<i> hot just like an oven</i>, then watch Baz in the mirror as he drags his thumbs down his chest sensually at<i> I need some lovin’</i>. I don’t bother to watch my own reflection, because I know I look like an oaf compared to Baz.</p><p>*</p><p>Penny slams her tray down across from me. I grimace as some tea sloshes out of her cup.

</p><p>“How was setting feminism back a century last night?” she says.</p><p>I sigh, and her eyes soften.</p><p>“Terrible. I’m an awful dancer.”</p><p>She huffs. “Well, isn’t that sort of the point? For a bunch of men to butcher a female-dominated art form for laughs, because men acting in a traditionally feminine manner is funny? Because being a woman is shameful?”</p><p>“I don’t know," I shrug. “Only I was butchering it. Baz looked like a fucking professional.”</p><p>“Well, if the point is just to dance well, I don’t see why women can’t participate. I mean, can you believe what Gareth said? That a girl doing those same steps would look <i>too sexy</i>?”</p><p>I think about the way Baz’s hair flowed last night, the elegant motion of his body, and the way his intense expression gave way to something like joy when he finally got lost in the music.</p><p>"It’s plenty sexy already," I grumble, through a mouthful of scone.</p><p>*</p><p><i>Sexual Healing</i> is stuck in my head for the rest of the week. It gives me an extra burst of energy, a spring in my step. If I thought that hacking at trees with my sword or running laps around campus were good stress relievers, dancing is on a whole another level. The endorphins have me walking on air.</p><p>I think it’s something about moving with the music. It stays with me. I keep remembering how I felt like I was a part of the song, a part of something bigger.</p><p>I find myself reviewing the choreography in my head anytime I’ve got an idle moment. When I’m by myself, I even start dancing.</p><p>I’m actually excited for practice on Wednesday.</p><p>And then...we start dancing. We only spend a few minutes reviewing the choreography from last week, before Gareth launches into the next song - <i>Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go</i>. This one’s much faster. By the time Gareth has taught the whole thirty seconds of choreo, I've barely got the first few beats down.</p><p>“Don’t worry about being behind right now,” he assures everyone (though he looks at me when he says it.) “We’re going to teach all the songs quickly in the next couple of weeks, and after that, we’ll have practices more often leading up to the Showcase. That’s when you can really get it down, put on the finishing touches.”</p><p>"What a nightmare," Kabir from Magic Words class says as soon as practice is over. I nod sympathetically and we chat as we pack up our things. It's nice to get to know him; I've been too busy for the last eight years to make many friends. "You live in Mummers too, right?" he asks as we exit the room together.</p><p>"Gareth, could I speak with you?"</p><p>I hear Baz's low voice and freeze, flattening myself against the wall next to the doorway.</p><p>"I'll wait here," I whisper to Kabir, and he shrugs and walks away.</p><p>"I spoke to Agatha -" Baz begins.</p><p>"Yeah, she told me!" Gareth interrupts brightly. "That would be awesome. You’re killing it, mate - would be amazing if you'd join in on the more advanced choreography."

</p><p>Baz sounds weirdly happy when he answers, “I’d love to.”</p><p>*</p><p>I pester Agatha at breakfast the next day about the extra section.</p><p>“We’d be happy to teach you too, if you’re interested in participating!” she smiles. (I’ve never seen her so happy to spend time with me before. She really loves this, and I never even attended one of her ballet recitals. I was really a terrible boyfriend.)</p><p>“I’m pretty bollocks at what we’ve learned so far, though,” I complain, and Agatha tsks at me.</p><p>“Not from what I’ve seen. You just need to memorise the choreography a bit more. You’re not bad, Simon.” She pauses, chewing on her lip. “Actually, I was thinking that Gareth and I should record the choreography as a set of videos. That way, you can watch them on your school laptop if you forget something.”</p><p>“That’s a great idea!”</p><p>Agatha leans in and whispers to me, “I’ve got a contraband iPhone - don’t tell anyone. I promise I’m not using it to bring down the Mage. I haven’t used it at all, actually. But if you can keep it mum, I’ll use it to video myself, and then I can send it to you.”</p><p>“Well, alright." I don’t approve of her flaunting the technology ban, but it’s more important that I don’t make a fool of myself at this showcase. “There’s no Wi-Fi here though, and I don’t have a phone you could text it to.”</p><p>“I’ll email it to Baz. Then, he can use his mobile hotspot to get your laptop on a network and send it to you. You do have an email address, right?”</p><p>I do, from before the technology ban, but obviously I haven’t used it in years. I still remember it, though - swordboy_iloveroastbeef12345@yahoo.com. Agatha rolls her eyes when I write it down for her.</p><p>I’m not sure when Agatha is planning to send Baz the videos, so I watch him carefully every time I’m in the room with him. I wish that Penny had a phone, so that she could come to our room and help me access it instead. After all, Baz has no reason to actually help me. It’s not like he wants to share the spotlight with me; the only reason he’d do it is so that I embarrass myself and make him look better.</p><p>On Friday evening, I change into my Watford pyjamas and settle into bed early. Before I can lie down, Baz clears his throat.</p><p>Baz never makes a sound when he’s awake, and we never talk. My whole body tenses and I look at him right away. He looks startled, but holds my gaze.</p><p>“Wellbelove sent me the videos. I can set them up on your laptop now, if you’d like.”</p><p>"Oh!" Suddenly, I don't feel tired at all. “Yeah, sure.” </p><p>I sit at my desk and log into my computer. Baz elbows his way next to me and leans down.</p><p>Our desks are pretty small, so the scent of him - freshly washed, cedar and bergamot - floods my senses.</p><p>“Your desktop is heinously disorganised." He taps his phone and connects my laptop to his hotspot. “Alright, here are the videos. I’ll email them to -”</p><p>He snorts at my email address.</p><p>Merlin - he <i>snorted</i>. I can’t help it, I start laughing. He knocks his leg against mine in an effort to get me to shut up.</p><p>“Okay, I’ve attached them. It’ll probably take a while to upload and then download them all, especially on this piss-poor illicit connection. How can you run a school in the twenty-first century without offering <i>Wi-Fi</i>?”</p><p>He returns to his bed, switches on the lamp, and opens a textbook. His phone is unlocked on his bedside table, so I glance over every few minutes to verify that he’s actually sending the videos. I tap my fingers against my thigh as I wait for the whole process to finish.</p><p>It takes such a long time that I get antsy and start pacing the room. I consider summoning my sword, but I don’t want to piss Baz off when he’s doing something nice for once. Classical conditioning and all that.</p><p>Instead, I start humming <i>Sexual Healing</i> and practicing the body roll, over and over. (I can never get it right.) I finally stop dancing when I hear the ping of the email arriving, and look up to see that Baz is staring at me. I turn red and knock my foot on the desk in my hurry to open the email.

</p><p>(It's from tbgpitch97@gmail.com. He <i>would</i> choose something with zero personality.) It takes another forty-five minutes to download them all, including the time it takes to clear space for them on my laptop, but instead of dancing this time, I just lay in bed and twirl my pen like it's a sword.</p><p>There are four videos in total. I click through the first two without watching; they’re Agatha dancing to <i>Sexual Healing</i> and <i>Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go</i>. I'll review those later.</p><p>The third one is the extra choreography that Baz volunteered for. I click on it, and hear distant vocalisations that sound vaguely familiar. Agatha is down on one knee, looking at the floor. At the fifth "ooh yeah", she whips her head up and makes blazing eye contact with the camera.</p><p>Then she rolls her body. "<i>Ask me if I do this every day, I say often</i>." Stands up in one fluid motion, moves from side to side to the beat. Bends at the waist, does another body roll, gazes seductively at the camera from under her lashes. A beat where the curse word is censored and then, "<i>down to do this every day, often</i>". Then "<i>baby I can make that, make that rain…</i>" And she drops back down to the floor, this time on both knees, legs spread apart - </p><p>And then it goes completely off the rails.</p><p>
  "<i>Often, often, girl I do this often…</i>"
</p><p>She sits down on her bum, spins her leg around, moves the other leg back. Lies down on her back, brings her knees in, thrusts her hips upwards.</p><p>Then she spins herself around so she’s on her toes and hands, like she’s about to do a push-up. Except instead of doing one, she thrusts her hips forward, rolls them. It looks like she’s pretending to -</p><p>My face turns red and I slam the laptop closed.</p><p>She’s pretending to fuck the air.</p><p>She’s going to make <i>me</i> do that, in front of the whole school.</p><p>This has gone way too far. Penny was probably right; the Mage really ought to shut this whole thing down.</p><p>I mean, if Agatha and I were still dating, seeing her do that might have had some kind of <i>physical effect</i> on me. I can see how someone else would be really into it, though - I’m kind of glad she isn’t allowed to perform.</p><p>Except she <i>is</i> going to be dancing like this in a room with me, Gareth and Baz tomorrow morning.</p><p>Holy fucking Merlin, <i>Baz</i>.</p><p>I glance at him surreptitiously. He’s still reading his book. I don’t know if he watched this video when Agatha sent it to him. I don’t know if he’s aware of what’s in store for the two of us tomorrow morning.</p><p>I get into bed nervously, resisting the urge to look at him, or to think about what’s going to happen tomorrow morning. There’s nothing to do but face it - I can always decide against performing this bit later.</p><p>When I close my eyes, all I can see is Baz’s long legs spinning through the various poses. And the taut line of his body, and the way his hips would look -</p><p>I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to sleep.</p><p>*</p><p>The practice is way less awkward than I expected it to be. There's a couple of other people there, for one. The dance is so complicated that Agatha and Gareth end up breaking it down movement by movement. </p><p>None of it really feels sexy when I’m just thinking about which leg goes where. I mean, it’s just bending and unbending my knees, moving my neck, and flexing my hips. It’s so much to think about that I don’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed.</p><p>I don’t even look at anyone else. My eyes are just staring blankly into space the whole time as I concentrate <i>really</i> hard on remembering the steps.</p><p>“All right, now let’s try it with the music all the way through,” Agatha says, after about two hours. She starts playing it and I count the beats in my head, try to think of what’s next. I do alright for the first half of the clip, and then I completely blank out.</p><p>My heart starts racing. I glance at Agatha and try to copy her movements, hoping they ring a bell, but they don’t. This is so bloody hard. Morgan’s tooth, I’m expected to pull this off flawlessly on a <i>stage</i> in a month. That’s not enough time.</p><p>When we finish, Agatha shuts off the music and immediately starts coughing. Gareth looks ill. Shit, I’ve gotten so stressed out that my magic is starting to fill the room with smoke.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry!” I try to pull the power back inside of me. “I didn’t realise I was getting so worked up.”</p><p>“It’s alright.” Gareth coughs. “Let’s meet again Wednesday. Great job.”</p><p>Everyone else flees the studio, and then it’s just Baz and me. He’s not coughing at all, because nothing can rid him of his composure, but he sneers at me anyway.</p><p>“If I wanted lung cancer, Snow, I’d smoke more cigarettes.”</p><p>“Can your kind even <i>get</i> cancer?” I snap.</p><p>He rolls his eyes. Then we both stand there as I try to rein in the smoke. I don’t know why he doesn’t leave. I think he’s trying to show me how much this doesn’t affect him or something.</p><p>Once I’ve calmed down a bit, he says, “In the interest of everyone’s health, I can, er, help you with the dances."</p><p>"What? Really?"</p><p>"Just so that nobody chokes onstage,” he adds quickly.</p><p>I narrow my eyes at him. “Is this a trap?”</p><p>“How could it be a trap?”</p><p>When I don't answer, he rolls his eyes again and strides out of the room.</p><p>I find myself rushing after him.</p><p>“Wait,” I call out, and for some reason, he actually does.</p><p>“Tonight, in our room. Eight o’clock,” I say.</p><p>He nods, and we part ways.</p><p>*</p><p>I take a shower, then head to the library to study with Penny. Once we wrap up our schoolwork and finish eating dinner together, it’s nearly eight, and I have to rush back to Mummers.</p><p>As soon as I step into the room, I fall over.</p><p>“What the fuck?” I poke at the ground. It's springy, like a bouncy castle.</p><p>Baz hums. He's perched on his bed, which is wobbling a little. “Technically, floor work should only be performed with knee pads. I spelled the floor into a cushion, but it’s not ideal.”</p><p>"Like hell it isn't." This was <i>definitely</i> a trap. Baz spelled the ground squishy so I would fall onto it and hurt myself - only it feels like a memory foam mattress. I sigh and burrow a little further into it. Honestly, I could sleep just like this.</p><p>"No napping!" Baz snaps, and a pillow from his bed hits me in the face. I stare at it, shocked, and then burst out laughing.</p><p>"Anathema," I try to wheeze out, all while clutching Baz's pillow and rolling around on the extremely comfortable floor.</p><p>"Shut up," he says, but he's smiling.</p><p>In the end, he reverses the spell on the floor. Instead he spells our pillows smaller and sticks them to our knees with magic. I hate the grease-burn feeling of it, but I’d hate the bruises more, so I don’t complain.</p><p>“How should we do this?” I ask.</p><p>“We can dance through the choreography together once. Then the second time, you should do it alone, and I’ll help you anytime you forget something. Then you’ll be able to focus on the steps you’re struggling with.”</p><p>I want to tell him that’s a dumb idea, only it actually isn’t. (It’s so hard not to be contrary when Baz is involved.)</p><p>Baz stands in front with his back to me and starts half-singing the music really slowly. We go through the choreo and I copy Baz on the parts that I don’t remember. Which is a lot of it.</p><p>He’s a bloody good dancer, which seems unfair because he’s already good at everything else. He's restrained, almost feminine, at the beginning of the song, but by the hip thrusts he’s transitioned to a much more aggressive style. He slips in and out of the personas so naturally, and I’m in awe.</p><p>He’s got a fit arse, too. Small but perky, giving way to thick thighs that bulge with definition. It’s hard not to notice every detail when I’m basically required to stare at it! That’s the thing with dancing - and this performance, especially. You can’t really ignore someone’s body when they’re moving this way.</p><p>I try do the next bit on my own, but Baz’s eyes on me make me falter. He finally turns his back and I just ask him for the next step if I’m stuck.</p><p>He drills me, over and over. Not just the bits I mess up in, but the parts before and after, too, so I’ve got smooth transitions. He tells me to watch the movement of his hips carefully. (I already am.)</p><p>We stop around eleven, and I collapse against my bed. It's so hot in our room. At some point I took off my pyjama shirt and just danced shirtless because I was so sweaty. I really need another shower, but Baz claimed it without asking, because he's a git. He was barely sweating; it's not fair. He's not the one who will be peeling sweaty pants from his arse.</p><p>Then I shake my head vigourously to rid myself of that thought. I feel like I have permission to objectify Baz when I’m watching him dance, because I need to stare at him to improve, but it’s well gay to keep thinking about his body when we’re not.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The smell of roast beef makes my mouth water. I loiter dreamily in front of the dining hall.</p><p>Agatha flicks me on the shoulder, and I jump.</p><p>"Baz is waiting for you in the studio," she says. "You should go practice with him."</p><p>"Alone?"</p><p>Agatha nods, and I rub my palms together. They feel sweaty. When I walk into the dance studio, Baz is lying on his back.</p><p>"What are you doing?" I ask, even though I think I already know.</p><p>"Your motions lack realism," he sneers. "You thrust your hips like you're trying to stab somebody."</p><p>I blush. "I mean - that's kind of what it is, right?"</p><p>In a flash, he's on me, pressing me against the wall of mirrors. "Is that what you think, Snow?" he murmurs. "Don't tell me that you're as much of a blue-eyed virgin as you look."</p><p>"Shut up," I mumble. He backs away, spreading his arms wide. Gracefully, he sits down on the ground, cross-legged.</p><p>"Prove yourself," he sneers, and I tackle him. He falls backwards, but his face is calm as ever. "Now you get the idea," he sneers, and brackets my hips with his thighs. I'm holding myself above him on all fours.</p><p>He tilts his head to the side. And then he starts humming - <i>often, often, girl I do this often</i>. He puts his hands on my hips and gently guides them forward. So that I'm rolling them, not just thrusting them. Bringing my whole body into it. He stares at the space around my crotch and smirks.</p><p>"Well, look who's learning," he teases. I growl, and this time I drop down a little on my arms, and Baz moves up at the same time - and we touch -</p><p>I wake up then. Tingling, and frustrated, and wishing I could have stayed asleep.</p><p>*</p><p>"Simon, your form on those thrusts is incredible!" Gareth exclaims. I stare at the floor resolutely, examining the tiles that I was definitely <i>not</i> pretending were dream-Baz. </p><p>Strange thoughts and dreams aside, practising with Baz for the past few weeks has done wonders for my form. The dances I learned earlier are smoother, to the point that they're muscle memory, and it’s energising instead of exhausting to practice them. Baz and I still practice the newer choreography together in our room once or twice a week. (I don’t mention it to anyone, because it’s a weird thing to explain. And I don’t think Baz tells anyone either.)</p><p>I've made more friends in the last few weeks, too. I’ve always been friendly with my classmates, just by virtue of the attracting power of my magic. But it’s hard for me to get to know people, to the point where we’re actually friends. It’s easy to feel comfortable around the other boys in the dance, though, because I spend so much time with them. I get to see a different side of them.</p><p>Like Gareth, for example. Everyone thinks he’s a bit obnoxious - and he is - but I like him even more than I did before. He’s a good teacher, and he’s talented. He explained that he’s been learning to dance since he was a kid, to get better at casting with his belt buckle. And he’s a great friend to Rhys. I notice that he makes sure the choreo is accessible, prioritizing dramatic upper body movements over complex footwork. And he's put in a bunch of the spins that Rhys is great at. The result is that Rhys blends in seamlessly with the rest of the dancers.</p><p>The biggest change I’ve experienced is in how I feel about Baz. He’s still irritating, and we still snipe at each other or ignore one another. But when we're dancing, I get to see the good parts of him. They’re not directed at me, of course, but he’s patient with the other dancers, and he doesn’t try to hog the spotlight. He’s encouraging to the boys who are struggling, without being patronising. And he always volunteers to stay behind and clean up.</p><p>Sometimes, we even walk back to Mummers together. Once, I stayed late so Gareth could help me drop into a half-split faster. Baz actually waited for me to finish so we could walk together.</p><p>"This is the last song!" Agatha exclaims. "You've all done wonderfully, and we're so proud about how much everyone's improved."</p><p>She starts playing the music. <i>Stop! Now make that - - hammer time.</i></p><p><i>A$$</i>, by Big Sean.</p><p>My mouth hangs open. Where do Gareth and Agatha get off making the closer the hardest one, and then teaching it <i>last</i>? We start practising, and it's even worse than I feared. I can’t even figure out how to come in at the right time - I’m always early or late.</p><p>"It's just like, what in Merlin's name were they thinking!" I vent to Baz as we walk back to Mummers.</p><p>He rolls his eyes. "It's not as bad as you think. They taught it last because all the other dances have built up your skills. Anyway, you weren't doing terribly. Not as bad at Bradley."</p><p>"At least Bradley can come in on time," I grumble. I hold the door to our room open for Baz, and he turns around to face me as soon as we're both inside.</p><p>"Is that what's bothering you? It's really not that hard. Bradley's a shit dancer, but he's just counting himself in like we do in the orchestra."</p><p>"I tried that," I insist. "It doesn't work. We just come in, like, randomly, between beats."</p><p>"You're an imbecile. Let me play the music for you." He opens up Spotify on his phone and starts counting.</p><p>*</p><p>“One, two, three, four, five AND a,” Baz yells at me, for the hundredth time. “Count it, for snakes’ sake. How can you do it perfectly when you’re just listening to the song, but absolutely bollocks it up when you have to dance?”</p><p>“I don’t <i>know</i>,” I snap. “I just suck. I suck at a lot of things, as you always point out. And there’s so much other choreo that I need to practice. It’s not worth it, I’ll sit this song out.”</p><p>“Like hell you will,” he growls. “I’m not sacrificing <i>hours</i> of my time on helping you with this just to have you quit.”</p><p>“I don’t owe you anything. You offered to do this!” I’m distantly aware that my magic is rising, and before I can point it out, Baz touches me.</p><p>A current opens up inside of me, and for a moment, I think I’m going to set him on fire.</p><p>And then he starts glowing around his edges. </p><p>“Snow, what the fuck,” he says, softly, a bit awed.</p><p>“Are you okay?” I ask.</p><p>“Yes. Fuck, I can feel the extra magic in me. I could cast Madonna right now. I could cast <i>Sinatra</i>.”</p><p>“Do it,” I breathe. He reaches out and I grab his hand. I think about my magic like it's a faucet, instead of a broken pipe. It’s easier, now that I’ve released a bit already and I’m not on the verge of going off.</p><p>“<b>Fly me to the moon,</b>” Baz sings, in his deep, resonant voice. “<b>Let me play among the stars…</b>”</p><p>And suddenly we’re on the moon. Not the actual moon - even I’m not powerful enough to teleport. (Thankfully - it would be just like my magic to send me into the vacuum of space but forget about the spacesuit.) It’s an illusion. Baz kicks off from the rocky surface, and tugs me up with him. He pulls me in by the waist and starts dancing. I play along, even though I’m bollocks at ballroom dancing. The beat is easier to follow, because the stars surrounding are flickering in time with it.</p><p>Baz holds me out at arms’ length, and then suddenly whips me in a spin back towards him. “Just like that,” he says. “Break each beat into a triplet. You need to start at the ah of the last beat, so you can hit at the right time.”</p><p>So I try with him. I count in thirds to each twinkle of a star, and when I hit the third part of the beat, I start dipping Baz, and come to a stop right at the second part of the next one. We freeze for a second, and then I pull him back up. It’s easy because we’re both much lighter.</p><p>He knocks into my chest and puts his hands on either side of my face. Then he presses our foreheads together. He giggles, like he’s drunk on magic.</p><p>“If you can literally send us to space, you can hit that beat. You’ve just done it, you magnificent tragedy. Absolute nightmare.”</p><p>“Is that a backhanded compliment? Or I guess a backhanded insult. It sounds mean but it’s actually nice,” I mumble dreamily.</p><p>We stay like that until the illusion fades and we’re back in our room. I feel gravity like a crushing weight. Baz basically shoves us apart.</p><p>“Practice on your own,” he says. Then he rushes out the door.</p><p>*</p><p>It’s louder than usual in the studio. When I open the door, I understand why. There are about ten extra people in here -  specifically, girls. Penny, Trixie and Keris are at the forefront, along with Agatha. The rest are hanging back a bit.</p><p>It looks like a movie poster, or the cover of Super Smash Bros. Girls on one side of the room, boys on the other. Facing each other, and tense.</p><p>“It’s tradition, and it’s already been decided,” Gareth snaps, arms folded. “It’s too late now to change. The performance is two weeks.”</p><p>“We <i>know</i> the choreography,” Keris counters. “Agatha taught us.”</p><p>“It’s still going to mess with the formations. The stage will look too busy. We need to have more interest and interaction if we have a group this big.”</p><p>“It’s not that big,” Agatha says. “And it’s not too late. Anyway, Penny and I have brought this up to you multiple times! There was plenty of time then, but you've left us with no choice.”</p><p>"This isn't what people expect, and they’re not gonna like it,” Gareth responds. “Plus, this <i>is</i> feminist! Usually girls have to do all the sexy stuff. This time the guys have to do it, and see what it feels like. Give the girls a chance to ogle them for once, so it's fair.”</p><p>“That’s a disgusting and reductionist excuse,” Penny says, and before she can really lay into him, Baz steps in front of her.</p><p>“Gareth, while I applaud your dedication to the issue of female objectification, the spirit of this dance would be preserved either way. The songs are by male artists, and the dances are choreographed with a certain masculinity in mind. Even if this performance were not restricted to men, it would still call attention to the issue, simply by injecting a performance of masculine sexuality into the space of the heterosexual male gaze.”</p><p>“Plus, it sends a message to non-binary students that they’re not welcome in any of these spaces,” one of the girls chimes in. “And what does it say, to claim that it’s funny when men dance like women? That being a woman is somehow inferior, or embarrassing? That men can only diverge from traditional gender roles through the guise of comedy?”</p><p>“I’d also like to point out,” Baz adds, “that not every woman at this school is attracted to men, and not every man is attracted to women. Queer people exist. Me, for example.”</p><p>Wait. What?</p><p>“And like me,” Trixie adds.</p><p>“And me.” Keris grabs her hand.</p><p>“Gareth,” Rhys says. “Think about how close we’ve all become. Even if the dance is sexy, it doesn’t feel like that’s the point. We’re all learning together. Pushing ourselves physically and mentally, for hours every week. In our regular lives, we're all separate. We take different classesa. We play different sports, or different instruments. But this? This has given all of us something in common."</p><p>Around the room, people are nodding.</p><p>"Now imagine how much harder it is to find common ground with our classmates of the opposite sex. It's the same barriers, but we also have separate sports teams. Separate dormitories.”</p><p>"It won't hurt," one of the boys chimes in. "C'mon, Gareth."</p><p>"Let 'em in!" Someone else shouts. "I'm half troll and I'm allowed!"</p><p>The chorus of assent grows louder, until finally Gareth has to wave his arms and shout to be heard. "Okay, FINE! Fine. You've convinced me. As long as everyone respects each other and works hard, I'm on board.”</p><p>The room erupts in cheers.</p><p>The practice afterwards is a bit chaotic, but we manage to learn new formations and run through the dance a few times. It’s nice to spend time with Penny like this. She doesn’t often try things that are out of her comfort zone, especially if she thinks they're “too girly.” I’m happy that she’s branching out.</p><p>When practice is over, I bid the girls farewell as they head to the Cloisters. I hang back, waiting for Baz, so we can walk to our room together.</p><p>“It was cool of you to stand up for Penny and them,” I say awkwardly. Baz raises an eyebrow. My face burns, and I look away.</p><p>“And, uh. Also to say that you’re queer. That’s mad brave.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he says.</p><p>*</p><p>It’s a perfect storm for the last two weeks. We practice every day after class, and we’re all exhausted. The girls have quickly assimilated into the group, mostly because we’re all suffering so much together.</p><p>And being around Baz so much...and knowing that he’s queer…</p><p>The dreams get worse. So, so much worse.</p><p>We stop practicing together in our room. There’s no time, and we’re knackered by the end of each day and pass out right away. We don’t talk or even look at each other on the way to Mummers. Sometimes I’m so dead on my feet that I can’t deal with waiting for him, when I need to be in bed so badly.</p><p>And yet, the dreaming center of my brain is working overtime.</p><p>In my dreams, Baz and I go on dates. We kiss under the yew tree. He looks at me with an intensity that isn’t hate, and I can’t keep my hands off of him. Everything feels so right.</p><p>I know that we’re enemies. I know that despite our sort-of truce, despite his sexual orientation, Baz still doesn’t like me very much. Not in...that way. I’m not his equal.</p><p>But I’ve barely slept, between revising for midterms and dance practice, and the line between my dreams and reality has started to blur.</p><p>*</p><p>The dress rehearsal is held at the auditorium in the White Chapel. (There used to be a drama society at Watford, and a yearly musical, but there wasn’t time for that stuff once the Mage took over. Now, this is the one time of year it gets used.)</p><p>Our group is closing the performance, so we have a lot of time to kill while we wait for the other performers to complete their rehearsals. Everyone tries to do homework for the first hour, but slowly gives up. By the end of hour two, Baz and I are slouched in our chairs, sharing a bag of crisps.</p><p>Baz doesn't usually eat around people, especially me. But I’m only half watching him, I guess; the rest of my attention is onstage, especially now that Agatha and Gareth are blocking out formations on the big stage with <b>see what I mean</b>.</p><p>I get a little dizzy watching everyone's initials swirling around. I'm so tired, and full, and happy, and I rest my head on Baz’s shoulder.</p><p>I realise that this isn’t dream Baz when I feel him stiffen below me - but then he relaxes. He shifts closer to me, so that our knees are touching, and presses his nose to my hair.</p><p>“You’re so bony,” I grumble, even as I burrow deeper into him. “Eat more crisps.”</p><p>“Wash your hair,” he replies, but he takes a deep breath and exhales contentedly, so I know he’s taking the piss about me smelling bad.</p><p>I drift off to sleep just like that, and don’t wake up until Agatha yells at us to get back onstage.</p><p>*</p><p>“And lastly, what you’ve all been waiting for! The Eighth Year Dance!” The MC is a peppy seventh year. In response, the audience bursts into whistles and applause.</p><p>My stomach churns with nerves. I regret gettings seconds at Friday fish and chips, and I <i>never</i> regret seconds. I swallow and hope they don’t make a reappearance.</p><p>“You’ve got this,” Agatha mouths to me, with a big smile. I straighten up and smile back. Next to me, Penny’s practically vibrating with excitement.</p><p>A hand knocks against mine, and I know without looking who it belongs too. Cool skin, calloused fingers. I give Baz’s hand a grateful squeeze. He squeezes back, just barely, before letting go.</p><p>The lights go down. We walk onstage, shuffling about, looking at one another to double-check that we’re in the right spots. The music starts. Gareth whispers, “Five, six, seven, eight.” The stage lights turn on. 

</p><p>And the audience is blinded by the reflection of twenty-five <i>extremely</i> shiny belt buckles.</p><p><i>”Baby...I’m hot just like an oven…I need some lovin'...”</i>
</p><p>I can’t see the audience over the bright lights, but I can hear the yelling and cheering of our classmates. I don’t think about anything, I just feel my body go through the well-practiced motions. I think I’m walking on a cloud. No, I think I’m <i>flying</i>.</p><p>*</p><p>“Tonight, mad lads, we are getting <i>smashed</i>,” Gareth yells, and we all start cheering. He pops a bottle of cheap champagne with too much ceremony, considering that we’re just crammed into the dance studio after hours. Only a layer of soundproofing spells shields us from getting caught drinking on campus and breaking curfew.</p><p>We’re still in our dance costumes - Watford shirts that we unbuttoned during <i>Pony</i> by Ginuwine, black trousers, and those insane replicas of Gareth's magickal belt. (I’ve taken mine off and strung it around my neck.)</p><p>We drink champagne and shit beer, and eat snacks and baked goods pilfered from the kitchens. Trixie spreads glitter everywhere, and for once Penny’s in too good of a mood to complain about it. Someone baked a cake, and Agatha and Gareth are each holding a bouquet of flowers that Baz created out of thin air for them. The room smells like magic and wine, vanilla and roses. It’s intoxicating.</p><p>Baz is swaying to the music, which has transitioned from our dance mix to whatever Spotify thinks should come next. His shirt is wrinkled, and his undershirt is sweaty and covered in glitter. His hair is a mess, and the eyeliner that he wore onstage has smudged onto his cheeks. He looks messy and carefree.</p><p>I walk up to him, just as the music shifts to a slower song, and take him by the hand.</p><p>I tug him to face me, and his hands drop to my waist. I loop my arms around his neck, and without thinking, I push some magic into him. He starts humming along, then singing as we hold onto each other.</p><p><i>"I will feel a glow just thinking of you,”</i> he croons. And even though I’m an awful singer and a terrible mage, I join in for the next line.</p><p>
  <b>"And the way, you look, tonight.”</b>
</p><p>Baz starts glowing. I glance at my feet, and I realise that I am too. My toes break free of the ground, and then we’re both floating up, hovering with the force of this made-up magic. Around us, people gasp and clap.</p><p>“You’re insane, Simon,” Penny shouts. “An absolute freak of nature.”</p><p>I don't think Baz has noticed that anything is different yet. His eyes are closed, and he’s smiling as he sings, <i>”Lovely, never, never change.” </i></p><p>Then his eyes flutter open. He gasps as he takes in the scene, eyes bright with wonder. His gaze darts everywhere, and finally comes back to me.</p><p>And then, I kiss him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Say hi on <a href="http://www.im-gettingby.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>